Dog
by robotiger
Summary: An entirely improvised fanfic created by BFFs Kara and Alex. A BLU Scout struggles emotionally and physically in ways he never would have imagined. He and his best friend, the BLU Spy, must work together to keep the Scout intact.
1. Chapter 1

**(Hi guys! Robotiger here. I'm new here. Well, ****_we're_**** new here. I'm Alex, she's Kara. We both love Team Fortress 2. Maybe even more than love, if there's even a word for that. Anyways, this website is freaking complicated, so if I mess up when uploading stuff, please don't get irritated with me. It's freaking confusing. So on another note, this fic, titled "Dog", is a totally impromptu TF2 fanfic that Kara and I started texting each other one day for fun, until it eventually became a 21.5K-word, in-depth story. Everything is totally improvised, and when one of us texted a section of the story, it was as new to the other person as it is to you, our reader. We had to come up with dialogue and plot right on the spot; we never discussed future plans for the characters or the storyline. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it!)**

**Dog**

A dry wind whirled through the gorge. The sun beat down on the sandy ground and singed the face of the young boy from Boston.

Perched in a crouching position in the shade of a mine cart, his sweat practically steamed off him as he wiped a bit of blood off his high forehead.

He had been out here for days patrolling the border, with hardly a glance of any of his fellow mercenaries. He was exhausted, bruised, and nearly melted.

His stomach growled loudly and he grunted through his teeth, tightening his brow and banging he back of his head against the burning-hot mine cart.

Off in the distance he heard the small clink of metal against metal. Probably an Engineer working on machinery. He was unsure whether or not this unknown noise was coming from a RED or a BLU, but it was nice to hear the sound of people.

He sluggishly rolled his head to the side in order to peer past the edge of the cart.

Red.

The engineer was clad in red; not only that, but the Texan was building up a sentry- a Scout's number one enemy. A death machine.

Scout's legs and arms went through a tiny spasm of nervousness. Eyelids agape, he swiftly rolled his head back to be completely hidden by the cart. He'd been out here too long to be killed instantaneously.

Fingering the microphone on the end of the wireless headset attached to his cap, he clicked the earpiece and tried to get a connection to his team's base.

"Ay- ay guys, the'e's an engineeh over 'ere," he whispered into the microphone. Only white noise buzzed in the earpiece that he held against his face; a few broken words from Medic were the only things he could hear, and he could hardly even understand them. It was useless.

Now what was he supposed to do? No connection to base meant no help, and he couldn't just run out into the range of the sentry. He hoped maybe Sniper was up in the perch above the base so that maybe he might notice the Scout's predicament. Scout wasn't sure whether Sniper's gun could shoot far enough with no clear shot. He clicked back on the microphone in one last attempt to contact his allies.

"'Ey. Anyone 'ear me? Come on, one a' ya gotta be able to!" He whispered harshly.

No reply. He was on his own now.

Sliding his hat and headset underneath the mine cart, he glanced back at the engineer one last time. The man was hunched over his machinery, tracing blueprints with one hand and wrenching in a screw with the other.

Scout rolled to his left, scuffling on the dirty ground and pulling himself up into a position fit to run while crouching. He slid the thin pistol, complete with only three remaining bullets, out of the elastic of his baseball shorts and slid it between his bare fingers.

Dashing silently forward, Scout ambled into the wooden house containing a Blu control point. He shuffled towards the open doorway, peeking his nose around the edge and double-checking for any other Red mercs that could be lurking in the area.

Reassured that he and the engineer were the only mercenaries in sight, he took a deep breath and leaned farther past the edge of the door, tightening his grip on the pistol.

Four days without food, standing mere meters away from his well-armed opponent.

His belly roared in a moment of desperate famine.

The engineer looked up.

"Shit."


	2. Chapter 2

Scout's eyes widened into saucers as he stood still as a pole, hoping that the engineer would return to his work. He held his breath in for what seemed like ages, not wanting to be spotted or heard. Slowly and silently he let the breath escape his mouth before sharply sucking in another.

Scout listened as the Engineer stood up and began to scuffle cautiously over to where he was hiding. He could either face his opponent or make a mad dash to safety. Scout heard the click of a shotgun being loaded and knew the only thing to do was run. He could always come back later and kill the Engineer once he'd gotten some food.

But the Engineer wasn't done with the sentry at this point, and it'd be safer to attack the man when the machine couldn't shoot him. The only problem was the shotgun. Maybe he could try to knock it out of the RED's hands, but that seemed too risky.

Time was running out for making plans. The Engineer was only ten feet from Scout's hiding spot now and if Scout didn't act fast be would be dead in an instant.

Scout lowered his chin, bit the neckline of his cotton shirt, and pulled his head back up the slightest bit. Nervous habit? No, of course not. He was simply attempting to confuse himself into thinking he was eating.

"Now ah reckon there's some sorta dog 'round here, with all that growlin'," the short man mumbled to himself. "Ay doggie, c'mon out, now, don't be shy. I gotta couple ah sandwiches I kin give yah, if you be nice t'me."

Scout whimpered and bit his shirt collar even harder.

The engineer's gloved fingers wrapped around the edge of the doorway. Brow furrowed, the man looked to his left first, his stubbly jaw shifting in mild confusion.

Scout tried to silently sidestep away; his right foot was only on the first step of the nearby staircase when Engineer swung his head to the right, looking Scout right in the eye.

The man raised his eyebrows.

"So yer the dog that's been growlin' at me," the Engineer smirked, pointing the gun at the boy. Scout was frozen in place now, still biting down on his shirt. He wouldn't have had this goddamn problem if he'd thought ahead and brought a sandwich or two.

"That san'wich you mentioned sounds good," the boy said shakily. "…'Aven't eaten in days." Oh, God, what was he doing? This was going nowhere.

"Now don't you get smart with me, ya' hear, boy?"

Scout was beginning to shake now. He'd been close to death, just not this close. His hands trembled. Somehow he'd managed to keep a grip on his gun.

"Please?" He asked in a last-ditch effort to preserve his life somehow.

The engineer's angry smirk drifted into an indifferent frown. "Let's say a deal, boy. I give you a sandwich an' yer life, and you give me that gun o' yers and let me build mah sentry."

Scout began to feel nauseous as well as ravenous, which was definitely not a good combination.

It was his life or the safety of his team. He knew for a fact that sentries were near unstoppable, and God knew where Spy was at this point; if the engineer managed to complete his creation of the machine, the Red team would be near guaranteed to build their own fortress, complete with protection and supplies, and take down the basically torn-apart Blu team.

Or Scout could eat, live to see another fight, and maybe even visit his Ma again.

He swallowed hard, sweating even more now, his canine teeth almost tearing through the cloth.

A tiny, subtle, yet possibly malicious grin swept across Engineer's face as he murmured a single word.

"Dog."

Scout really was starting to feel like the dog he was accused of being… At the mercy of an owner whose actions were unpredictable and possibly fatal. Scout knew the Engineer was betraying his team for Scout, and he appreciated that—if the man was being truthful, that is.

Hands still shivering, he dropped the gun to his feet and kicked it over to the Engineer. The short man chuckled.

"Good dog, now come 'ere and get yer sandwich."

Being treated like an animal was worse than the excruciating hunger he'd been feeling. He followed the Engineer like an obedient puppy on a leash. God damn, the man was right. He was a dog. He was enraged that he let himself become submissive to the enemy.

"Here, boy," the Engineer gestured to a small, nailed up crate of scrap metal, "sit."

That was it.

"_I'm not yer fuckin' dog_! Now stop treatin' me like I'm one!" the young man snapped.

"Now, boy, I don't want any trouble," the man chuckled, pointing the gun back towards Scout's head. "It's up to you, boy. Live 'er die."

Saliva slid down Scout's dry throat. He stared down the barrel of the gun, his heart rattling inside his chest.

He sat down.

Slowly, and cautiously, the young boy lowered himself to the ground and sat with his legs crossed. Once his rear end was fully rested on the ground, he looked away from the barrel at right at the engineer's goggle-covered eyes, biting the inside of his bottom lip.

His stomach growled and Engineer burst out laughing.

"Now y'all don't get mad at me, doggy boy," he chortled, clenching his knee with his gloved hand. "We don't want no trouble, a'right?"

Scout's brow and jaw remained tighter than the knots on a lifeline. The boy exhaled angrily out of his nose.

The only sound besides the cicadas in the distance was each slow, crunching footstep of Engineer's boots on dirt. He walked around the half-built sentry, leaned over to open a tin lunch box, and grabbed a ham sandwich and threw it at Scout, landing it in the boy's lap. Scout did not move.

"Well go on. Eat it," Engineer grinned, his strong grip never weakening on the shotgun.

Scout's fingertips pressed into the dark sponge of the rye-and-ham sandwich, and he raised it to his mouth. Engineer chuckled and grabbed a few mechanical pieces, continuing his work on the sentry while still keeping an eye on both the dog-boy and the shotgun.

Dog. The word repeated itself countless times in his head, refusing to let him forget that's what he was. Just a dumb, submissive dog. He took a slow and cautious bite of his food. His throat was constricted out of nervousness, which, unfortunately, felt like a collar. This was the dumbest goddamn situation he'd gotten himself into, and decided it best to finish the food quickly.

"How's it tastin', mutt?" The Engineer laughed lightly.

"Hmmph," Scout snorted back.

"Y'all better be careful 'bout what you say or do, boy. I'm bein' awful nice lettin' a mangy dog like you have one 'a my sandwiches."

Scout was infuriated. If that son-of-a-bitch called him a dog one more time, he swore he'd kill him right there with his bare hands. Suddenly, he heard the beep and whirr of a machine sprouting to life. Engineer chuckled as he watched Scout freeze as his face went pure white.

A small orange LED light flickered on the bottom of the sentry's ammo compartment.

"Ye got ten seconds, boy," the mechanic chuckled. "I suggest you run on outta here with your tail between your legs. You DO have a tail, don'cha?" His eyes nearly watered with his laughter. "Stupid dog."

Ten seconds.

Scout shoved the small remaining chunk of bread crust into his jaws and swallowed fast.

Nine seconds.

Scout leaped to his feet and charged towards the engineer, a look of surprise flashing across the Texan's face.

Eight seconds. Scout's fist swooped up from under the stubbly chin and wound up high in the air, knuckles covered a bit of the engineer's blood.

Seven seconds. The engineer was on the ground. Scout laid his foot on top of the shotgun and slid it behind himself before leaning over to tower over the older man.

Six seconds. Scout's largish foot dug its heel into Engineer's chest. "I-"

Five seconds. The heel dug in harder and the sentry began to beep in tune with the countdown. "-AM-"

Four seconds. Scout put his full weight onto the Engineer's chest and tore the wrench from the gloved hand. "-NOT-"

Three seconds. Engineer was ghostly white with fear. Scout's hand holding the wrench was raised high in the air above his own head. "-A-"

Two seconds. Engineer let out a feeble wail and Scout spat in his face, finishing the sentence; "-DOG!"

One second. Scout's baseball batting skills activated and the wrench flew towards the left side of the Engineer's face, whacking the cheekbone with a vicious blow, spattering blood across the green goggle lenses and rendering the man absolutely and completely dead.

Zero seconds.

Scout dropped to the ground above the body of the Engineer, letting bullets fly hazardously over his head. He swung his left foot in a roundhouse kick, toppling the device onto the dirt. He rolled to the side to avoid the next onslaught of bullets and hammered the wrench onto the side of the device, causing a delay in the reloading system. Several times he did this before he took the edge of the wrench and tore the wires apart, ruining the murder machine and stopping the wave of metal death pieces.

He rolled over onto his back, turning his eyes to face the broken and sparking machine. His chest rose and fell in quick paces. His heart raced like a jackrabbit being chased by a coyote. Scout had just killed the Engineer, and now he was safe. …At least he hoped he was. The machine whirred on the other side of the dead Engineer. Scout pulled himself up and onto his feet. He was sweating; not from the scorching heat but from the guilt and nervousness he was feeling. He killed the man who helped him. What a great way to repay him. He walked over to where his pistol lay on the floor, next to Engineer's toolbox. He picked up the gun and scuffled over to the doorway, taking one look at the bloody corpse next to the beaten sentry.

An agonizing battle tore his heart in two, but he relented. He shuffled across the dirt towards the lunchbox, grabbed the two remaining sandwiches, and dashed through the building, out the doorway, and back towards the base, planning to alert his comrades of the oncoming Red onslaught that seemed apparent by the engineer's appearance.

Nausea whirled in Scout's stomach, becoming a whirlpool of mixed emotions and tearing at his heart.

He was a dog.

A pitiful, hungry creature obeying its master's every command until its hidden rage became too much to bear and it lashed out in violence.

Scout had never killed anyone, no; he was a scout, a lookout. Victim, yes. Oppressor? Never.

And now he had torn a man's life from his body like the dog he was.

Breathing heavily with anxiety rather than exhaustion, Scout pivoted on his heels and skidded around the corner, dashing around large rocks and ducking under half-opened garage doors, heading towards his current home; the Blu base.

He couldn't wait to get home. His thoughts crept back to the Engineer and made his feet move quicker than ever from the deed he had done. He distracted himself with plans he would carry out when he returned. Medic would fix up his wounds and their own engineer would make him some food. The small sandwich half barely had made a dent in the immense hunger he felt and offered no relief from the pain. His teammates could help him.

Thoughts began appearing in the boy's head. His team. They were his family.

Although he did miss his Ma and brothers back at home, they had treated him like a little boy, even though he was now a young man. He felt more independent in the BLU base than back in Boston. His team relied on him.

He longed to hear a friendly and familiar voice. It'd only been four days, but that didn't matter. He missed his team. His family.

This close brush with death had exposed him to unknown feelings he never dreamt of experiencing. His eyes dampened and unexpected tears flowed down his cheeks.

The base appeared up ahead and he couldn't have been happier to see it. He'd be fixed up and everything'd be back to normal, right?


	3. Chapter 3

Scout swerved through the big blue doors of his team's base, blood on his forehead, sweat on his neck, dirt on his arms and tears on his cheeks, yelling "Ay guys! I'm 'ere! I made it back! I got somethin' I gotta tell ya!"

He stopped in the center of the large cement dining room. No one was there. He glanced left and right; he had heard Medic on his headset, so he knew that at least _some_ of the mercenaries would be here... But where was everybody?

His left arm, holding the pistol, swung lazily at his side as he trotted through the hallways. He began to gnaw on one of the two sandwiches fixed between his right fingers; dog.

He swallowed uneasily. This food was from the corpse of a man he had just killed.

There was that word again; dog.

Every time he took a bite, he remembered the beast he was compared to. Every swallow felt like rocks sliding down his throat. But he kept eating. Logically, he needed food to keep himself from passing out anytime soon. Emotionally, eating the sandwiches felt like eating dog food.

He trotted through the hallways, listening for the voices of his teammates. He heard nothing. He peered into every room and bounded up the stairs, and upon seeing the light on in the medicine room, headed straight for the gray entry.

He pushed open the partially-glass doors and walked in a few feet before stopping in his tracks.

What the-? How…? No. This couldn't be happening. First his family was nowhere to be seen, and now this. Tears streaked like firecrackers down his face, getting into open cuts, causing small explosions of pain. His breath came and went in sharp motions, his body quivering every few seconds with his crying. He let a cry escape his mouth. He was still standing in the same place for some reason, and was unsure of how long he'd been there. Minutes, probably.

"Speak up, boy. Don't just stand there like a deer in headlights," came the voice of an invisible owner. "How do you like my handiwork, monsieur? I thought I'd, oh, repay your little favor. Eye for an eye, they say."

A puff of dull smoke emerged from next to Medic's operating table. There stood a Red Spy, knife in hand.

"Wha- how'd you-" Scout's voice cracked as the words escaped his dry lips.

"Ohho, how did I know you keeled my comrade?" the spy snickered, his laugh transforming into a menacing scowl. He slid his lighter out of his coat pocket and lit the end of his cigarette, puffing smoke into the already-dreadful-smelling room.

"The very same way that your friend tried to warn you." The spy gestured towards the aftermath of his revenge.

Medic's eyes were closed; broken vials and needles scattered around him like sand, their contents bubbling and dripping onto his lab coat. His glasses sat crooked on his nose and in his hands he held a black headset similar to Scout's, the wire clearly cut into pieces. A slit-like hole in his chest oozed thick blood that dripped quietly onto the floor.

"You're a bastard."

"I know zat already, my boy. My mother always _was_ a romantic, like me," the spy sneered, yanking the tobacco out of his mouth and hissing smoke through his bared teeth. He began to step into the rhythm of a wide circle; Scout followed the man's example and the two of them circled each other like animals on the prowl.

He felt as though his team had abandoned him. They hadn't meant to, he'd hoped. Abandoned like the runt of the litter. Back at home with Ma and his brothers he'd been the runt. He'd always been the weakest of them all. That's why he took up running, so he could be strong and impress his brothers. It'd never worked, though. In a blind rush of adrenaline and anger, he ran at the Spy.

Spy had anticipated the boy's oncoming attack, and dodged the attempt to tackle him.

Spy's long fingers wrapped quickly around the back of Scout's shirt collar. The abrupt resistance stopped the boy and caused him to spin around and face Spy's snarling, and seemingly sharp-toothed jaws. Spy released the back of Scout's collar, only to grab the front of the boy's shirt and yank him closer.

"You can't fool a Spy, boy. Or should I say, _mutt_." He chuckled, "Engineer was right about you. Just a weak, mangy creature."

Scout's wrists tightened and his taped fingers curled into fists. He swung at the Spy, only to have the punch be avoided thanks to the Spy's cunning senses.

"I am the jackrabbit, boy, and you, are the farmer's peetiful old hunting dog. Never able to catch a rabbit. You may be quick, mutt, but you let your emotions slow you down." Spy grinned, his smile growing even more evil and crude. Scout let out a yell and threw more unsuccessful punches. The tall man's bony fingers kept a firm grip on Scout's shirt collar. He placed his gloved, knife-wielding hand on Scout's shoulders, and shoved the Bostonian violently against the wall. The air left the boy's already-weak lungs as he slid to the floor. Spy knelt down next to him, holding the knife up to Scout's cheek. The boy felt the sharp blade slice into his sore flesh. He mustered a small scream out of his empty chest and tried to struggle from Spy's surprisingly strong grip. Blood poured from the new wound, stretching from below his ear to the corner of his lip. The blood mixed with his tears and made the cut sting even more than it already did. Spy stood over the boy, admiring his handiwork.

"What are you going to do now, mutt? Zhere is no one to heal you. You are weak. A weak, helpless puppy," the suited man chuckled.

Scout lifted his palm to his face, the tape on his hands soaking up only a bit of the massive amount of blood pouring from his face. Starving, hot, exhausted, emotionally unstable and now bleeding half to death.

Five days ago he was well-fed, kicking back and relaxing in the base with his best friends, Medic and Spy.

Now the Blu spy was wandering around the gorge somewhere, and Medic was gone forever.

More tears welled up in his eyes. When Spy had yanked on his shirt collar, the pistol in his hand had slid out of his grasp and clattered on the ground. It was on the other side of the room now.

Horribly dizzy, struggling to keep his eyes open, Scout lifted his head to look the Red spy in the eye.

"I'm a dog," he breathed, his voice raspy now under the intense physical pain.

The spy snickered and raised his eyebrows in agreement. "But of course, mon petit chien. At least you know it now."

Scout's heavy breathing became more and more ragged. "I'm starving," he said, his left hand clutching the collar of the spy's coat. He nodded his head towards the sandwiches he had brought in and dropped at the floor. He swallowed hard, his blood seeping between his lips. "Please, sir."

Uneasiness floated past the spy's face, quickly disappearing and replacing itself with a condescending smile. "Why not. You did beg me for it. I guess you learn tricks more easily zhan ozhers." The assassin rose to his feet, slipping his dagger into his pocket, and stepped quietly across the room.

While the French man's back was turned, Scout shuffled himself towards the nearest lab table, reaching up with his hand, trying to grab one of the many fluid-filled needles scattered about.

His fingertips slipped and a needle filled with neon-colored liquid clattered off the edge of the table- though he caught it before it smashed on the ground.

The falling of the needle caused the other needles to clink together, snapping Spy's attention away from the meat on the floor and back towards his prisoner.

"_Raagh!_" The Red spy let out a cry of anger and dashed towards the small, beaten American boy, snatching another needle in his leather-covered hands and lunging in for a kill.

Scout managed to throw the large needle in his hands right at the spy's throat, tearing it open and causing the man to collapse immediately down to his knees- but not before the small needle the spy had managed to grab wound up pricking Scout in the chest and emptying its contents.

The spy began choking to death, bleeding all over the floor. Scout watched anxiously, suddenly distracted by the strange feeling near his shoulder. Looking down, he sluggishly grabbed the now-empty needle and pulled it out, examining it before dropping it into his lap.

"Shit."

Scout stared at the needle in his lap, feeling weak and lightheaded. He hoped to God that wasn't the same stuff he'd caught the Spy with. The Frenchman was lying on the ground, paralyzed by the injection. The pain in Scout's arm and upper chest throbbed and rendered his limb useless. Was this what spy had done to Medic before he sliced the German man open? There were quite a few empty needles around his friend's body.

Scout reached over with his good arm and tried to take the pulse of the Spy.

The man's heart beat slowly and his chest barely rose at all. The medicine wasn't affecting Scout as quickly as it did the masked man. Maybe his dose was more diluted than the Spy's. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled himself slowly over to where he'd grabbed the needles in the first place. The fluid was spreading throughout his body, making his breathing weak and slow. He pushed through the pain and made it to the small metal table. He reached up with his less-weak arm and grabbed the cold steel. He yanked himself up, only to have the wheeled table tip under his weight. Everything that had been resting on the tabletop spilled to the ground, unknown bottles of chemicals smashing on the white floor, needles breaking left and right. Scout's heart sank to his feet. His only chance of healing himself, and possibly his only chance of survival, had just been destroyed. Glass littered the floor around him.

Over by the examining table near Medic's body lay an unbroken bottle and across the room an empty syringe. If Scout could get to his feet, he could avoid dragging himself across the glass. He propped himself up on his elbows and pushed his upper body upward with his—well, not necessarily good arm, but the one that was working better than the other—and slid his legs underneath himself. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his feet. Pain stabbed though is fingers and he looked down to see them covered in small shards of glass. He ignored it and limped over to the bottle. He bent down carefully and grasped it in his cut-up hand. He read the label; _Antidote_. It didn't matter now what the antidote was for. Injecting it couldn't make this any worse, right? Hopefully it could keep him from a slow and painful death.

Next was the syringe. He scuffled slowly over in its direction.

Suddenly, his head felt weak and his knees buckled, sending him to the floor.

His head struck the cold concrete with a rattling thud. The needle was mere inches from the reach of his fingertips. If he could just move himself the extra few inches, he could save himself. He weakly pushed with his feet but could barely muster the strength to do anything. He was completely exhausted. He let himself relax before trying again. The cuts on his fingers stretched, sending jabs of pain up his arm. Again he ignored them and continued relentlessly to grab at the needle.

Scout's eyes began to flutter and he felt dizzy. He knew he was about to pass out from both sheer pain and the effects of the mystery medicine. The last thing Scout heard was the light click of a shoe's heel on the concrete before everything around him faded into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

His eyelids fluttered open, bright lights blazing on his face and in his eyes.

His ears were ringing like the ship bells on Boston harbor, and his head throbbed like the wave of fans in Fenway park.

He thought he was home.

He sucked in a sharp breath and widened his eyes, listening to a shuffling and a clinking coming from his left.

He was lying on a medical table, a new one, in what seemed to be another chamber of the Blu base.

"You all right, mon ami?" Scout cringed in fear. Hadn't he killed the spy already?

Quickly turning his head, he glanced over his left shoulder at the figure in the darkness. The spy stepped forward into the light.

Blu.

Scout sighed in relief, nearly laughing in appreciation for his friend. At least one of them was alive.

Spy smiled gently at Scout, a folded bandage in his hands, which he began to unravel as he spoke. "You were out cold. Quite a mess you made, non? Wis ze bloody spy and euh-" he swallowed down his brokenheartedness. "-and Medic."

Scout's smile faded, replaced with the tired look of loss.

Spy cleared his throat. "Well, zat is okay. Medic and I both know zat you are strong, so he must have died knowing zat you would, eh, care of your self."

Spy's voice slowly faded out towards the end of his sentence, Scout's eyes watering with tears.

"It's not fair."

"Je sais, mon ami. I know. It eesn't. But you know what? You were strong. Look at you now." He laughed gently. "Not quite ze same, but..."

Scout's brow furrowed questioningly. "Whaddaya mean, not the same?"

Spy raised an eyebrow. "Well uh, Scout, you do realize you were soaked in chemicals, right...?"

"Well yeah, I know," Scout sputtered nervously. "But you gave me the antidote, right?" Spy nodded. "So I should be fine."

Spy chuckled, secondhand embarrassment edging his tone. "One antidote does not cure everysing, my friend."

Scout's eyes widened in fear while his friend reached over to his right hand and unwound the bandage in preparation for a new one. "Surprise number un," Spy announced.

The bandage slid off. Aside from the hundred tiny scars covering his palm due to the glass shards, Scout didn't notice anything at first; then he saw it. His fingernails were long, and white, and sharp. Claws. Or something like them.

"Augh," Scout groaned, his dizzy head lolling around in disgust. "You said that's number one?"

Spy shrugged. "Numbers two and sree are uh, optional to see. But you will figure zem out anyways."

Scout grunted. Might as well get it over with now. He had one hand with claws on it, not like it could get much worse. "Show me, then."

Spy bit his lip and tried not to seem thrown off by Scout's current state. "Euh, make your tongue run over _les dents_," he said, pointing at his teeth.

Scout had hardly begun doing so when he stopped. Now what? He already knew he had big front teeth, his classmates back home had never let him forget it. But big canine teeth? That was new. "What is it, fangs eh something?"

"Mmm, close enough," Spy shrugged. "Somesing to... To zat extent."

Scout sighed. He could deal. He'd look like less of a horse, at least. "And number three?"

"You're REALLY not going to like eet," Spy whispered, clenching his teeth.

"Oh come on, man! You can't let me just find out already? All of Medic's chemicals crashed off the table and poured on me. A bunch of 'em, anyways. I know something's gotta be wrong with me at this point, so you gotta spill."

Spy rubbed his temple with gloved fingertips. "Euh, okay, Scout. This one may make you a bit... Shocked, zough."

Although he was pretending not to care, Scout swallowed down an oncoming wave of nausea. Could it really be much worse? What else was there to see?

"You will have to get up, my friend," Spy mentioned. "Let me help you." He reached out his arms and pulled Scout up from under the boy's shoulders, sliding him towards the floor and allowing him to find his footing.

Leaning on the spy, Scout hobbled over to where his friend led him. A full-body mirror stood leaning crooked against the wall. Spy brought him around to face the mirror head-on.

"I don't see nothin'," Scout remarked, noting the reflection of his teeth in the mirror. "Not besides whatcha showed me already, anyways."

"You may want to turn sideways, Monsieur," the spy added, helping his friend reposition himself.

Scout glanced back at the mirror. Dog. Again.

He saw the tail; it wasn't really a dog's tail, it was more of a rabbit's or hare's. A short, fluffy one that matched his hair color and wouldn't move around much.

But it still made him sick. If not for the whole circumstance that occurred during what now seemed like yesterday, he would've found it weird, but still couldn't have cared less.

Now, knowing that the blood of two men and his best friend caked his hands, seeing it only reminded him of what he had been constantly called. Dog.

He must've zoned out or made a weird face because Spy took notice. "Uh, Scout," he began, almost stuttering. "You know, I uh- I heard you talking in your sleep. You said you were a dog. Well, I- I want to remind you one thing."

Scout's heart broke. It was time to give up, he thought. His life was over.

"Well uh, a dog is always loyal to his friends," Spy said. Wait... Well that wasn't that bad, then. Could've been something rude. "And I know zat you Americans like to say, 'dogs are a man's best friend!'" Spy was grinning, desperately trying to comfort his friend. "And I am a man!"

Scout laughed.

Spy's words were unbelievable. Did he really care about Scout that much? Scout's lips tightened and he started to shiver. He drew his arms close to his body and stumbled closer to Spy. Tears welled in his eyes as he fell into Spy's chest.

Scout wrapped his weak and bandaged arm around the man and held on tight. His hands clenched the pressed fabric of the man's suit. Spy stood there in shock, unsure what to do with himself.

"Th-thanks, man. You're really great, ya' know?" Scout's voice trembled.

Spy reached his arms around Scout and held him close. Spy felt like crying along with the boy. He hadn't felt this sort of emotion in quite some time. Scout was beginning to dig his new claws unknowingly into Spy's back.

"Uh, monsieur?" Spy chuckled lightly, "Your claws."

"Uh, oh, sorry," Scout replied awkwardly, "Sorry."

"Non, mon amie, do not worry," he reassured, wrapping one of his arms around Scout's shoulder and giving him a soft punch in the arm. Spy wasn't too good at being friendly. Well at least what all the other mercs seemed to call it. They were all so rough-and-tumble. Spy preferred to stay out of that stuff. It was just him and Scout right now and he needed to get the boy forget about the recent happenings at BLU base.


	5. Chapter 5

"Shall we get you somezing to eat? Your stomach was making quite a noise while you were out," Spy asked, as calmly as possible. He'd noticed the poor boy was very malnourished and dehydrated. Before Scout could answer- or even nod, for that matter- Spy began to lead him to the kitchen. He sat the boy down at the table and strutted over to the fridge, pulling open the creaky door.

"Care for anything in particular, mon amie?"

"Nah. Just get me anythin' if ya don't mind," he replied. "Thanks, again, for savin' my life, man."

"Oh, Monsieur, I could not let you die, now could I?"

"Well, I dunno. Yer my friend, but y'never seemed like they type 'a guy who'd care for savin' anyone."

"I see where you'd pick up that assumption. Normally, mon amie, I am not one for saving, but I do try my best to ensure my team's safety. It may not seem so, but you all are my family, and I could never leave you behind." Spy spoke calmly and softly, which was odd from his typical loud, clever, and teasing self.

Scout had picked up a new sense of respect for this man. Maybe this supposed heartless killer on the battlefield wasn't so heartless after all.

Spy had gotten out a few containers of tupperware and was beginning to heat up the contents.

"Yo, Spy. Are we th' only ones left? Is there anyone else on our team that's still alive?"

"Err, well, Monsieur, let me explain."

Spy paused before explaining, in order to stick a fork into the rice-and-beans and slide the plastic container down the table towards Scout.

"I was disguised as ze enemy Demoman," Spy began, drifting back towards the fridge to search for a drink. "It's very irritating wearing ze eye patch when you do not need one. Anyways, zen I—"

"Hey uh, Spy?" Scout interrupted awkwardly. Spy turned around to face his friend. "Can I have something else?"

The blandly-flavored container of food was completely empty. Only a few grains of uncooked rice stuck to the sides; nothing else remained.

Spy raised an eyebrow. "All right," he said, "you can have mine."

Spy pushed over his container of leftover spicy Russian meatballs from the other night. Scout eagerly awaited the arrival of the dish and dug in, nodding gladly.

"Heavy's a good cook," he said with his mouth full, crumbs of meat accidentally falling out.

"Oui Monsieur, he is," Spy agreed. "Anyways, to keep it short, Sniper and 'eavy are here wis moi. Demoman and Engineer are still patrolling, but zey are safe, and God knows where zose idiots Soldier and Pyro are at zis point." He shook his head, pulling out a can of beer for himself and pouring a glass of clean water for the still-sickly dog boy. As he turned around to hand Scout the drink, Scout looked at him in surprise, cheek full of the last of the Russian meatball, which he managed to swallow, granted with a bit of coughing and pounding his chest with his fist a few times.

"Why are you eating so much?" Spy asked incredulously. "I sought you were ze skinny one on zis team."

"You an' me, buddy," Scout coughed, trying to get down a sip of water without spitting it everywhere in a cough.

"Well I guess eet will be just me," Spy grumbled jokingly, Scout raising his eyebrows while drinking his water. "Don't tell me you want anything else."

Scout glanced at him.

"Oh, merde, Scout! What is wrong with you?"

Scout swallowed the water, bringing the glass down to the table. "Ay, it's been four days, buddy," he said. "An' the other guys'll get mad if they see that it's me eatin' all the Tupperware stuff. So I gotta do it when you're around." Spy rolled his eyes.

Scout shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Anyways," he began, "how many, uh- how many of 'em know about...?" He grimaced nervously.

"About Medic? Everyone. About ze fact that you are a hungry werewolf boy? Sniper, 'eavy and myself. 'eavy did not see you, but Sniper told heem. Sniper saw you. He came to check on you and I while you were, euh, passed out. He didn't seem to mind."

Scout gulped anxiously while Spy pulled an apple out of the fridge. He prayed that no one would hate him or hurt him because of his newly acquired animal-like attributes.

Spy threw him the apple, which he caught easily and began to gnaw on, when a nearby headset began to buzz. Spy walked closer and listened in.

"Looks as zough everyone is coming home!"

The relief that the rest of his family was safe flooded Scout's thoughts and calmed him down. Although Medic was gone, at least he still had Spy and all them. Spy was sitting across the table now, with an awkward and seemingly sentimental grin.

Demo and Engineer's hearty laughs echoed throughout the hallway suddenly, causing Scout to drop the fork into his almost-empty Tupperware. He stood up quickly and ran to the door.

"Scout! Wait. Let me explain to zem your status, and zhen zey can see you, okay?"

Scout's face sunk and he returned to his chair. "Fine," he huffed.

"Merci, monsieur."

Spy stood and pushed his chair in. The Frenchman turned on his heel and strutted to the doorway where the two men were about to enter. Scout sat, trying to make out any points in the conversation between the three as he finished up his food.

After only about a minute, the food had been devoured and Scout began examining his new claws. They looked just like normal fingernails except for the fact that they were longer and pointier. They seemed to be more deeply rooted in his flesh as well, most likely to keep them from being easily torn off. The thought of that made him queasy and he quickly dismissed it. He opened his mouth and faced the small metallic Tupperware tin. He could see the reflection of the new canines.

Scout rubbed his tongue against the sharp new teeth, examining the odd shine off them. Now for the tail. Rabbit like and short, it was the same light brown color as his hair. He began to wag it back and forth. Scout chuckled to himself and turned back to the doorway. Spy's conversation with the two other mercenaries had ceased and the three of them were heading towards the kitchen. Spy entered first, followed by Demoman, and then Engineer. The teen rose from his seat and stepped forward.

Scout stood silently as their eyes scanned the boy's new attributes.

"Well," Demoman spoke. The bulky man paused. What did he think? Engineer remained silent.

_Ah, crap_, Scout thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Demoman and Engineer remained silent. The Scotsman's face molded into a slight frown, quizzically analyzing Scout's appearance. The mechanic rolled his shoulder and fidgeted with his construction hat.

Scout had eaten so much at this point that he felt a belch coming on; out of politeness, he tried to keep it down. He clenched his teeth so as not to let any noise out, so when it arose, it made a growling sound instead.

As soon as the noise escaped his throat, his teeth bared, fangs and all, Engineer jumped back, clutching his construction hat, and Demoman's eyebrows leaped up as his arm twitched towards the handle of the grenade launcher strapped to his back.

Spy stood wide-eyed, unsure of what to do or say, his hands out with their palms forward in the subtle signal to stop.

"Will would ye lookit that," Demoman grunted, returning his hands to his sides.

Scout was panicking now, his face red, feeling like steam was floating off his skin. "What a wilcome te the base, eh? Animal-boy says 'ello." Demoman scowled and stomped around the table, heading towards the door leading to where Heavy and Sniper resided.

"Now, Spah," Enginner sputtered, fear morphing his expression, "Y- You gotta keep this boy under control- w- whatever he is. Ain't no time ta havva beast in the house." The man glanced at Scout before scurrying to the door that Demoman had just exited through.

Spy and Scout stood in silence, staring at each other.

"Ay, I didn't mean ta-"

"Scout, what were you SINKING-"

Spy stopped and let Scout continue.

"I did NOT growl at them."

"Eet definitely looked like eet."

"Okay well, sometimes a man has to do his duty, but he's gotta be polite about it! So, it's really not my fault."

"His duty? What would zat-"

Spy followed Scout's gaze, which trailed to the three tupperware containers and the apple core.

"Mon Dieu," Spy grumbled. He swung his head back to flash Scout a cynical look.

Scout's eyebrows were high on his forehead. The boy shrugged.

Spy was about to berate Scout with teasing insults when the door opened and Sniper walked in.

"Morning, mate," he nodded to Scout with a look of sympathy. He turned to Spy. "Soldier and Pyro ah comin' on thei' way. They'll be he'eh any minute."

Scout attempted to make the news that everyone else was coming home remain the only thought in his head, but that was never going to work. He'd just made the worst first impression in history. Scout returned to his quarters and entered the bathroom. His cut up hands were still in quite a lot of pain, so he didn't use them to prop himself up at the mirror. The boy leaned into reflective surface and began to make faces. He bared his new teeth and examined them for a few moments. Scout lifted up one of his clawed fingers and felt the sharpness of the tooth. The claw jabbed his lip and he flinched.

"Ow," he mumbled, noticing the faint taste of blood in his mouth.

He could seriously hurt someone with these, whether he wounded a teammate by accident or in combat to a member of the opposing team.

Scout didn't want Demoman thinking he was dangerous, so he decided to go try and explain the situation to the man. Scout sprinted from his room to go and find the Scotsman. He turned the corner towards the top of thestairs and there was Demo, just about to climb them. Scout reached to grab the man's shirt, and he felt the horrible feeling of his claws digging into the man's skin.

"Aye!"

Demoman wrapped his fingers around Scout's collar, pulling the boy down a few steps. The boy's eyes flickered to Demo's sleeve, spots of blood beginning to appear. Scout cowered like a dog who had just stolen food off the counter and was anticipating a beating. Demoman was beginning to lift Scout barely off the ground. A small, scared whimper escaped his lips.

"No- please, man! Wait…"

Demoman snarled and threw Scout up against the wall, sending a sharp shock of pain not only through Scout's weak shoulder blades, but also through the bottom of the boy's spine, from pushing the tail too hard against the surface.

Scout let out a small grunt of pain, his hands scrabbling at Demoman's arm, before he began, "I really didn't growl at you I just really had to burp but you know I just didn't want to be not polite and stuff but I ended up looking like an animal and then I came to look for you to explain but I've only had these claw things since this morning and I didn't realize they'd hurt you and-"

"Ye had to burp?"

"Y-yes-"

"So you've got a full stomach, then?"

"Well yeah, I-"

Demoman send his free hand, in the form of a fist, soaring at Scout's torso, slamming him against the wall even harder. Scout's eyes flew wide open and he choked on his own vomit, clutching his belly and swinging his feet back and forth.

"Now don't say I don't believe ye," Demoman growled through his teeth, "I think I do. But hurt me aginn, accident 'r not, yer gonna git yerself in a lot of trouble, y'hear?"

Scout nodded vigorously, choking a cough as he attempted to swallow the fluids back down.

Demoman dropped the boy's collar and let him fall to the ground with a thud.

Frowning, the man turned and stomped up the rest of the stairs.

Scout managed to put down his throat what had come up into his mouth, and he hacked up a cough in disgust. He laid his head back against the wall and took a deep breath.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall and he fidgeted nervously, praying it wasn't Engineer.

Sniper turned to go up the stairs when he saw Scout slouched against the wall, swallowing with difficulty.

"Who did this to you," he whispered through his teeth as he helped raise the boy to his feet, "who bloody did this to you?"

Scout's torso convulsed and he wheezed, grabbing his stomach and letting his head loll downward.

"Don't tell me it was Demo."

Scout closed his eyes and nodded, preparing to vomit all over the floor.

"Damn bloody vagabond," Sniper growled, gently leading Scout towards the nearest restroom. "Damn bloody lunatic."

A large burst of hellos and heys sounded from the dining hall. Pyro and Soldier were home.

"'Ow about we go say 'ello to Pyro and Soldier?" Sniper suggested.

"Mm-mm," Scout shook his head, "I'll just 'urt someone again. Jus' take me back to my room."

Sniper shifted his head and shot a concerned look at Scout.

"Ya sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Let's go," answered Scout. Sniper led the weak boy down the hall, past the kitchen and into his quarters.

"Yeh think yeh cen take it fram 'ere?" Sniper asked, still concerned.

"I got it," Scout replied.

"If ya say so," Sniper mumbled. Scout staggered over to his bed as the man exited his room. He climbed steadily on top of the sheets and slowly laid down.

Every move of every muscle pained him. He lifted up his dirty shirt to examine where Demo had left the punch. A large bruise was already forming. Scout put his head onto the soft pillow, brought his knees up to his aching chest, and curled himself into a ball. The small sobs pained his stomach and back, but he couldn't help it. He was a dog; a useless, whiney dog. He cried silently to himself for quite a while. These dumb new attributes ruined everything; friendships, life in general. It sucked. He may as well lay in bed the rest of his life- or at least 'til he starved to death. It's not like anyone would care. Maybe Sniper and Spy, but no one else.

A weird urge began to wash over him. Was it emotion? No; it was hunger. Not a hunger for food… but a hunger to kill. He didn't want to kill his teammates; he wanted something smaller. Something he could chase, that wouldn't put up a difficult fight. Then he remembered Medic's birds. Archimedes, right? And all the other birds whose names Medic hadn't ever really mentioned. His old friend had kept the birds up in the attic, where they could fly in and out whenever they pleased.

"No. No- come on. You can't kill Medic's birds. He's yer friend. No, no, no, no, no. You absolutely CAN-NOT kill a single bird," he hissed at himself.

The urge grew stronger and overtook his thoughts. This animal side was getting the best of him. It was like that old story he'd known in middle school. Doctor Whosit and Mr what's-his-name. He couldn't remember. His animal half was the evil one, his good half suppressed by it.

"Maybe just one."

Scout slid off his bed and struggled up the stairs to the attic, his heart pounding frightfully.

How could he be doing this? They were Medic's, and Medic was dead. He should be _caring_ for the birds, not killing them.

He pushed open the attic's trap door with a groan, clambering out into the open space.

Five doves, one of which was chirping while lying on the ground, were resting peacefully among the storage crates and metal pipes that stretched across the dark ceiling.

"No," Scout mumbled, but he shuffled forwards anyways. A chubby bird was seated on the lid of a crate of gunpowder.

An involuntary snarl ripped through Scout's teeth as he lunged forward and snatched the bird up in his hands. The other doves cooed loudly in fear and fluttered around the room, away from the boy combined with the beast.

Scout was kneeling at the crate now, his elbows and forearms resting across the lid with this dove trapped in his hands.

He moved his fingers a slight bit to view his catch. The bird's chest rose and fell quickly in fear. All it would take was a swift bite to the neck and it would be over.

Scout stopped himself. He swallowed back the saliva that seemed to be forming under his tongue and sighed.

Doves were a sign of peace. This was Medic's dove, too. What kind of wild mutt was he to be hunting it?

Tears formed in his eyes. He couldn't even control himself. What kind of cruel joke was this? To prove how submissive and stupid he was, to be a constant reminder of the day he got his friend killed?

He released the dove and it flapped away into the ceiling pipes with its brothers and sisters. Silent tears ran down his cheeks and he laid his forehead on the crate.

He felt a strange chill near his spine and turned around. His tail was all puffed up, the fur standing on end like a wolf's when ready to strike.

He pulled his knees closer to the crate and sobbed. He felt disgusting.

Unattractive, untrustworthy and uncontrollable. He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, then feeling the sting of his claws pricking his scalp.

Before he could cry out in agonizing desperation, a rat skittered across the floor. He looked up eagerly and felt his tail stand on end.

Sliding off the crate, he crouched down on all fours and peered around the edge of the wooden container.

The plump rat sat cozily near the edge of another crate, licking its paws and cleaning its small face.

Sucking in a quiet breath, Scout readied himself and jumped forward, snatching the rodent up in his fingers and suddenly nipping its neck, killing it.

He panted nervously, unsure of what to do. He scooted over to lean his back against the nearest crate, staring at the dead vermin in his hands, saliva trickling between his teeth.

The sound of footsteps echoed as they stomped up the attic's staircase.

The footsteps grew louder and Scout's heart rattled in his chest.

"What the hell's all this ruckus?" It was Engineer's thick Texan accent. The door rattled and then popped open. Engineer's goggle covered eyes fixed on Scout, flecks of blood near his lips, and then on the dead rodent next to the boy's feet.

"What the- What the hell's wrong with you, boy?" He raised his voice in disgust, and let out an aggravated sigh. The man lowered himself down the trapdoor and closed it behind him.

"Wait-" Scout called after him, but it was no use. The boy scurried over to the door and fumbled with the latch. It popped open and he lowered himself down onto the concrete floor. "Engineer! Wait!"

"Stay away from me, ya freak! I don't want any trouble, ya hear? Just leave me alone, boy!"

Engineer's words stabbed into Scout like a Spy's dagger to his heart. He backed up, away from Engineer, keeping the new tears from streaming down his face. The Texan turned and paced towards the stairs. Scout knew exactly what he was doing.

He waited for Engineer to be out of sight and began to follow him towards the kitchen. Engineer entered the kitchen, where everyone was gathered, and began to speak.

"The boy's deranged. We gotta do somethin' 'bout it before he hurts someone real bad. I saw 'im up in the attic. He killed a rat. Had its blood on his face and e'rything."

Scout lifted his arm up and wiped his face. There on his arm was, in fact, blood.

"Aye, the boy is crazy," Demoman added, gesturing to his forearm, "Dug those 'orrid claws into me arm!"

"Mes amis! Please, the boy iz just getting used to zhis! It is not his fault, I assure you," Spy said, in an attempt to defend Scout. The boy took a deep breath and entered the room.

"Speak ah the Devil." Engineer huffed, noticing the Scout creeping in the doorway.

"I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I swear!" Scout pleaded.

"Quiet, boy!" Engie snapped, "Yer comin' with us before ya hurt anyone."

Demoman took the hint and moved behind Scout, grabbing his arms and binding the boy's wrists in his hands. Scout struggled to break free of the iron grip, but to no success. He shot a scared look at Spy, hoping the man would help.

"Mes amis! I demand you release the boy right now!"

Demoman's tall and well-built frame slammed into Spy, who'd rushed over to help Scout. The Frenchman stumbled backwards into the counter, letting out a sharp groan.

"Let's go," Engineer commanded, and Demoman began to drag Scout's struggling body to the doorway, "Lock 'im up or somethin'."

"Lock me up?" Scout asked in distress, "Y-you can't do that! It's not right! Come on, man! Just give me a chance." His voice trailed off as his sentence progressed, his heels digging across the cement floor in protest.

"We gave ye yer chances, boy!" Demo was leading him down the hallway towards the basement stairs as Spy returned, running this time. Engineer whipped around to face Spy, holding his shotgun up to the man, causing the rogue to stop dead in his tracks.

"It's fer his own good," Engineer snarled, "And I reckon stayin' out of it'll be your best bet, Frenchie."

Soldier came thundering down the stairs, Heavy lumbering behind him with Pyro and Sniper taking the rear.

"Let boy go," Heavy grunted, frowning. Engineer and Demoman glanced at each other before the Scotsman hurled Scout into the empty room the men had stopped at, locking the door with the key from his pocket.

Scout rolled onto the ground, scraping his elbows on the hard cement floor.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he staggered to the door, peering out the small glass rectangle into the hallway outside.

Muffled arguing and shouting poured out the mercenaries' mouths; at the end of the hallway stood Spy, Soldier and Heavy; closer to the door stood Demoman and Engineer; and off to the side, Pyro and Sniper idly kept out of the conversation.

Spy, Heavy and Soldier seemed to be gruesomely arguing against Scout's captors, yelling about how it wasn't the boy's fault and how he shouldn't be treated like a prisoner. Demoman and Engineer argued that the boy was an animal and needed to be quarantined. Sniper occasionally added his point of view in the conversation- to allow Scout a bit of time to get used to things, and if he ever lashed out, he would then be put into solitude as punishment. The men yowled and roared at one another, spitting insults and waving their arms around.

Scout slid away from the sealed-shut door and slumped against the corner of one of the walls, waiting for a final decision.


	7. Chapter 7

Scout brought his legs up to his chest and hugged his knees. He'd torn his family apart. He was the uncontrollable dog that the family would debate about tossing onto the street or keeping and giving him a chance. He hoped Spy, Heavy and Soldier could put up a good argument. He put his head onto his knees and began crying. He missed his family back home and the family he once had here.

Everything works out for family in the end, right? He hoped they'd give him a chance. He'd barely been like this for a full twenty-four hours. How could they expect him to be in total control of his newfound attributes after such a short time? He stared at the freakish claws in disdain and felt his pointed teeth dig into his lip.

It was dark and damp down there. If they did choose to give him a second chance, he would want to do anything to keep himself from doing something that deserved punishment. He compared the basement to a shock collar. It would give him even more of a reason to control himself. Thoughts poured into his head; if he _did_ do something bad, how long would they lock him down here? Would they feed him when he was down in the cellar? Would they even let him out to begin with? What if they hurt him more than they already had? He knew he'd be safe with Heavy, Spy and Soldier- maybe Sniper too- but what about the others? Demo and Engineer probably wouldn't tolerate even the smallest thing from him.

The waiting was becoming painful and the makeshift prison seemed to be closing in on him. She heard a scuffling at the door and a fumbling with the lock.

_Click_. The door creaked open.

"Alright, boy, come 'ere." It was Demoman. Scout stood up cautiously and slunk over to the bottom of the stairs, tail twitching. The four faces of Demoman, Engineer, Spy, and Sniper stared back at him.

"Don't be scared, monsieur," reassured Spy, a hint of sadness in his tone, "We have made our decision."

"Eet's a little cold down here in ze cellar," Spy said, tugging at his tie. He looked nervous.

"So we'e, ah, we'e going to move you te the attic," Sniper finished for him.

Scout's heart sank and he blinked back tears. He was going to stay in the house- he'd just be caged, now.

Engineer scowled and a nasty frown was plastered across Demoman's face.

"You're going to live up there for now," Sniper continued, swiftly casting a sidelong glance at Scout's two opposers. "You're going to have visitors, we'll feed you, everything," he said gently. "You just can't really, eh, come down the staihs."

Scout took a deep, shaking breath through his nose. Whatever. If he got hungry when nobody was around, he could always eat the rats. The thought disgusted him, but at the same time, he knew that the dog part of him would probably _enjoy_ it, even if his human side didn't. He'd just have to control himself to the best of his ability around the birds.

"Come on, now," Sniper said, lightly touching the boy's shoulder and leading him up the stairs. "He'eh we go."

As Scout passed by Spy, he caught a glance at the look on the Frenchman's face. Spy was almost as sad as Scout was.

Sniper and Scout trudged slowly up the stairs, around the corner, down the hall and up towards the attic.

Once they entered, Sniper sat the boy down on a crate and looked him in the eye.

"The'e's one more thing," he whispered gravely.

Spy's footsteps sounded in the hallway below, and the man gloomily walked up the stairs with what looked like a black belt in his hands.

Spy stepped forward and handed the object to Scout. It was his camera strap; easily attached to an opponent's boot without their noticing, it sent live feedback to the Blu base.

Scout turned the black strip of fabric over in his hands. His claws clicked against the red camera lens attached to the thing.

"If ye get too violent with yeh visitors, Demo and Engie're gonna move you te the cellar," Sniper whispered.

Scout burst out crying and clutched the collar in his hands even harder. Sniper bit his lip and kept quiet, while Spy looked away, trying to blink back the tears that just dripped from his eyes anyways.

After about five minutes, Scout's crying became more of an aftermathic pant.

Sniper took Scout's hand in his and helped the boy adjust the strap around his neck.

"We'll stay with you t'night, mate. If you want, ah cou'se."

Scout sighed deeply and feebly nodded his head.

What was he in for?


	8. Chapter 8

Scout sat, dumbfounded. Was this a joke? If it was, it wasn't funny. This was sick. Abusive. They couldn't do this, could they? It's not like anyone would find out, though, with him being locked in the attic. He fumbled with the collar around his neck. It was tight, but not too tight, which was probably the best thing he could hope for now.

Sniper and Spy had gone down to the floor below, leaving Scout all alone for the moment. They still stood below the door of the attic, Spy was yelling through sobs at Sniper.

"Why did you accept zhat deal?" Spy fumed, "Zhat doesn't help him at all! 'ow could you let them put a collar on him?!"

"Spy, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?! Sorry doesn't get zhat awful contraption off his neck! Sorry doesn't give zhat boy a chance! You could've worked somezhing out whis zhem!" He ranted.

Scout was now laying on top of the trapdoor, listening to them bicker and tapping his claws on the wood.

"Spy! it was that 'er... Well, you know."

Silent tears fell from the boy's eyes and dripped onto the door. He knew he could never escape the hell that was his new life. The attic was locked from the outside and he could never fit through the small opening that the birds flew in and out of. How long would this last? Months? Years? Hopefully his captors would see reason and give him a chance. He could fight his way out when Sniper opened the hatch again, but then he'd be sent to the cellar… or worse. _Anything_ would be better than those options, he thought. Even being locked up here.

The lock clicked, and Scout rolled over, off the hatch. It opened up and Spy climbed up the stairs and into the murky room. Scout sat himself against the wall and looked at Spy silently.

"I'm so, so sorry, mon ami. I'm trying my best." He knelt down next to the boy and picked up one of the bandaged hands. "You will be okay. That, I can promise. I will do my best to assure zhat you are given a chance."

Heavy boots came stomping down the hall towards the door.

"Aye! Spy! Get out 'a here! You know the visiting hours!" Demoman yelled.

"I'm sorry. I must go." The Frenchman let go of Scout's hand and slid back down the stairs and out of the attic. Now Demo was climbing the ladder. What was he going to do this time?

Scout sighed. Who knows. He'd just have to endure the pain without complaint. Then, hopefully, they'd let him out.

Demo entered the room, his tall figure dark in the low light, the top of his head nearly touching the ceiling.

"Git up!" He barked. Scout obeyed. Demoman grabbed the camera-collar around the boy's throat and dragged him closer. His tight grip on the horrid thing was beginning to choke Scout. Fury quickly broiled in Scout's chest.

"Try anythin', boy, an' you'll be in the cellar faster than-"

The Demoman was interrupted by Scout's claws tearing across his cheek and shoving his face away violently. He turned his head back slowly to face the boy, who was now paler white than usual.

"W-wait! I- I just-"

Demoman glared at Scout, still gripping the collar in one hand. He raised his free arm, wiping his face with the sleeve, and looked at the bloodstains collected on the fabric.

He clenched his free hand into a fist, slowly raising it over his head before socking Scout in the jaw, causing agonizing pain in the poor boy's skin in the very same place that the Red fiend had sliced it.

Blood pooling in his mouth, Scout gasped violently, trying to catch his breath.

Demoman punched him again in the temple, knocking the boy into semi-consciousness before dropping him into the floor. He swung back his leg and jabbed Scout in the stomach, just below his ribcage. Scout choked for air and spat blood into the floor.

Demoman raised his boot, preparing to break Scout's face in, when suddenly goofball Archimedes swooped down from the ceiling pipes and pecked Demoman in the face, all too close to his good eye.

The Scotsman howled as the other doves soared downward and lunged at him, pecking him, scratching him, flapping their wings in his face.

Staggering towards the trap door, Demoman threw himself to the ground and crawled down out of the attic, slamming the door shut behind him.

The five doves ceased their fight and flew upwards, settling back onto the pipes and cooing to one another.

Choking, Scout gasped for breath, clutching his chest with his right hand and accidentally pricking himself. He spat more blood on the floor and tears welled up in his eyes as the thunder of commotion sounded downstairs and his mind faded out of consciousness.

White lights shone in his eyes. Again? Ugh. Was he dead this time? Did Demoman kill him?

He couldn't move, mostly because his body felt weak, but also because, as he quickly realized, his wrists and ankles were strapped down. It was what was best for him. He didn't want to hurt anyone anymore.

Suddenly, the light moved away from his eyes, and above him he saw Spy. Was this a memory?

"What za hell were you thinking!? Merde, Scout. Do you know how much convincing it took to get you here!? Be thankful you aren't dead!" Spy ranted.

Definitely not a memory. _Maybe_ a hallucination.

"Wait- I'm not dead?" he mumbled in surprise.

"No, thank goodness. You are in for a load of trouble, Scout. Sniper had to stitch up the cuts you left on Demoman's face."

Scout rolled his head back and forth, examining the new and unfamiliar room.

He could only imagine the horrible state his face was in. Spy was busy fiddling at the table beside him, preparing an injection of painkiller.

"Sorry," Scout mumbled.

"You _should_ be sorry. Demoman was capable of killing you right then and there, but he didn't. We agreed not to keep you in zhere for long, maybe a few days, at ze most. Now, mon ami, I don't know what we're going to do."

"Ya know, Spy," Scout mumbled, "Maybe I wanted to die. Maybe I wish Demoman had killed me. Then I wouldn't have to hurt or anyone anymore."

Spy turned his gaze to the Bostonian, his eyes stern and his lips tight.

"Don't say that. If you had died, I wouldn't have known what to do with myself. It would tear this team apart more than it already has. I can hardly imagine what would go on with zhis team-" he stopped and shook his head, unable to finish.

"Hm," Scout grumbled. "I guess."

Footsteps clicked up the hallway towards the medical laboratory that the two of them were in. Engineer opened the doors and silently walked up to the side of Scout.

"Spy, a moment please?"

"Oui." Spy left the room. In Engineer's hand sat a small device attached to a short leather belt. Scout let out a small whimper as engineer fastened it around his neck. All of it was déjà vu. He felt a small bit of metal on his skin and noticed that Engineer was holding a small remote with a few buttons on it.

"No- please!" he pleaded softly, "Come on man, please. Don't do this."

Engineer pushed his gloved finger onto one of the first buttons. A horrible, nearly heart-stopping jolt jerked through Scout's body.

"Argh!" He clenched his teeth in pain.

"That's only the first setting, boy. I'd rethink your choices next time ya feel like tryin' what ya did."


	9. Chapter 9

Scout huffed and Engineer trotted out of the room, allowing Spy to enter and visit for his few allotted minutes.

"What is this," Scout growled, his voice scratchy because of the electric jolt, "And what am I doing here? Where are we?"

Spy bit his lip and injected the painkiller through Scout's left shoulder. "We are steel in ze base," he began. "In one of ze rooms in ze cellar." He pulled away, taking the needle with him and shuffling through the meds and bandages on a nearby table.

Scout lifted his head in order to look at Spy while the man talked. "I do not know what will happen next. Eet is best for you to rest." He walked over to Scout and dabbed a cloth on the boy's forehead.

"So now what, I've got two collars?"

"Oui. One is for ze camera, one is for... instant punishment." Spy looked at Scout sadly. "We were contacted by ze administrator. It is against ze rules to keel a teammate. Zey won't keel you for now, but eventually, sings could become... Gruesome."

Scout swallowed hard, and the very action pained him from the tightness of his collars. He licked his teeth, irritated beyond words. "What about food? Visitors? Where am I sleeping?"

Spy sighed, sadness clogging his voice. "Je ne sais pas." He took a deep breath and continued in a whisper, looking Scout in the eye. "I will try to give you whatever I can to help you, mon garçon. Food, medicine, anysing." He moved to the side, out of the view of the camera around Scout's throat, and pointed to it. "Zat camera does not record sound. Only movement." He pulled out a thin black remote from his inside coat pocket. "Zis remote can turn it off when I need it to. I will use zis to ton advantage. Also... I may be able to temporarily sap Engineer's little remote toy."

Scout nodded with difficulty, the collars restricting his neck movement. "Ey, couldja get me outta here?"

Spy nodded and moved to the wall, pulling a small lever that caused the cuffs on Scout's feet and wrists to sink down into the chair. Scout sat up, rubbing his wrists and sighing. A growl erupted from his chest, and he scared himself.

Spy looked at the boy, eyebrows high.

Panic seeped into Scout's heart and he gazed wide-eyed at his friend.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

Scout felt his tail twitch and he turned on his rear end, sliding his legs onto the floor and rising to his full height, but keeping his head down and staring at the floor.

"Spy, what... What was in those chemicals?"

Spy muffled his own cry of emotion. "Scout, please. Don't be scared." He moved towards the boy and put his hands over Scout's shoulders. "You will be all right."

Scout started panicking, his breathing rapidly increasing and saliva pooling in his mouth. "I can't do this, Spy. Turn off the camera."

Startled, the French man began to protest. "Scout, I sink-"

"I don't CARE what you think, turn it OFF!"

The surprised assassin fumbled with his jacket and pulled out the slim remote, clicking a miniscule red button.

A fizzing sound cracked in the air and Scout knew the camera was off.

"Help me get this thing off," Scout ordered, pawing at the shock collar. Spy obeyed and fidgeted with the clip, managing to click it open and let the device fall into Scout's lap.

"There's no time to get this one off. We have to go."

"Aller!? Where, Monsieur?"

"I don't know," Scout choked, his heart pounding. "We just need to get out of here."

Scout made for the door while Spy collected a few medications, and stopped before the handle was pushed.

"You are sure, my friend?"

Scout turned to Spy, and more involuntary growling spouted from his throat. "As much as I will be."

Scout slammed down the door handle and threw it open, surprising Engineer, who had been loitering outside.

"DEMO!" Engineer cried, swiftly backing away and pressing himself against the wall in fear. "_DEMO!_"

Scout made a mad dash through the hallway, Spy deftly following behind him. The two men bolted up the stairs and charged for the doorway.

"Where are you going!?" Sniper shouted, rising from his chair.

The other seated mercenaries startled, and Heavy jumped out of his seat, dashing behind Scout and Spy as fast as he could run.

The scream of an angry Demoman was the last thing Scout heard before bursting out the main door and making a break for shelter in the desert.

Scout's gaze darted across the landscape, searching for anywhere he could lose his pursuers. He was surprised that Spy barely thought twice about assisting in his escape, but he was still immensely thankful. The Frenchman sprinted awkwardly after him, struggling to carry all the medical supplies.

Scout stopped and ran back to Spy. "Lemme carry some 'a that."

Spy handed him the bandages, a few bottles of sterilization liquid, and some painkillers. Spy kept the needles and the small kit Medic always used to carry.

Spy looked at Scout worriedly and the boy knew he meant "run". He dashed ahead and Spy chased after- not as quickly though because unfortunately he wasn't as skilled in the art of running. The boy dashed into a building and peeked out of the doorway, beaconing for Spy to follow. The Frenchman ran past Scout and up the stairs. The runner followed quickly after. On the next level, large stacks of crates lined the walls, perfect for hiding.

"Scout, go hide," Spy ordered, "I'll keep zhem away."

"But-"

"Go!"

The boy obeyed and climbed behind the boxes then slumping up against the wall.

He was shocked that he hadn't collapsed already, and that the pain didn't feel as prominent as it did before. Unfortunately, Scout knew that it was only his raging adrenaline and that the pain would be back fairly quickly. Muffled shouts echoed across the gorge as the men chasing them grew closer.

"They're in 'ere!" called Demoman. Crap. How did they know!? Whatever. It was no use questioning it now. The pursuers crashed through the doorway and up the flight of stairs.

"Ah, monsieurs! Pleasure to meet you here!" Spy laughed, nervousness breaking through his voice.

"Cut the crap, Spy. Where's the boy?" demanded Engineer.

"Mon ami, I assure you he has moved on."

"And you expect us ta believe you?" The short man questioned.

"Oui, monsieur."

"Demoman, check the place."

"Aye."

Scout remained as motionless as possible, still holding tight on the medical supplies. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the small bottles of painkiller slipping from his grasp until too late.

_Clink_.

The bottle hit the ground and rolled softly in a small circle.

Shit.

The room went silent and he heard Spy draw in a sharp breath.

"Well. I think we've found our mutt," Demo snarled deviously.


	10. Chapter 10

Footsteps like crashing boulders sounded from the staircase, stopping the four mercenaries from moving any further in their operation.

An enormous, bald figure ambled up to the top of the staircase, huffing and puffing, trying to catch a breath.

"'eavy? What're you doin' 'ere?" Demoman snarled.

The Russian scowled and stepped slowly into the room. He noticed Scout and subtly nodded to the boy, just little enough for neither Demoman nor Engineer to notice.

Heavy looked up at the two malicious, murderous Blu mercenaries.

"I am Heavy weapons guy," he grunted, baring his teeth. "And thees is my job."

With that, the huge man lumbered forward, grabbing the two abusers in his arms and throwing them against the wall with a mighty shove.

"'Eavy!?" Spy cried as the Russian man scooped up the rogue before swiftly yanking Scout out from behind the crate and lumbering quickly down the staircase.

The perplexed groans of Engineer and Demoman faded out as Heavy burst out of the building, running into the wilds of the desert with a man in the crook of each arm.

"Ay, 'eavy! Whattaya think you're doin'!?"

"Saving tiny men," the man bellowed, pebbles crunching violently under his thick boots.

At least five minutes of constant moving had passed since Heavy had made a mad dash from the empty building with Spy and Scout in his arms. The three of them were currently huddled behind a large rock figure. The building was already far out of sight, and it would be at least another ten or fifteen minutes before the madmen in the building would even begin to rise from the sudden ambush Heavy had wrought upon them.

"We look for sleep place this night," Heavy grunted, dirt crumbling under his legs as he hugged his knees closer, panting from his workout.

"But of course. Eventually, we may find a place to take refuge and even survive in, before we reach anywhere wis civilization."

Scout didn't feel the urge to contribute to the conversation. He felt a whirling in his stomach, and he already knew what he was in for.

How would they find food? Water? Where would they sleep? The desert got cold during the night. How would they stay warm enough not to freeze to death?

Scout felt his tail twitching in irritation, and he knew Spy had noticed because the Frenchman soon asked, "Are you alright, Scout?"

Scout turned his head away and stared at the horizon. "Is anyone 'ere thinkin' about food or water? None of you?" He turned back to face his traveling companions.

The two men remained quiet and blank-faced, when suddenly Heavy said, "Will be all right. Will get food and water. Do not worry, Scout. Heavy take care of you and Spy."

Scout rolled his shoulder doubtfully, and let the fingertips of his clawed hand scrape the dirt beneath him.

"Well, we might as well look for a cave or somesing to sleep in for tonight," Spy shrugged, rising to his feet. "Come on, maintenant. Let us go look."

The sun was lowering to the horizon as the three walked. Scout's mind raced.

When- or _if_- they made it to any form of civilization, how would he be treated? Would they experiment on him? Toss him in a cage at the zoo? If his family saw him this way, they surely would _not_ approve. Maybe it was best to stay out here with the team. All the ruckus that would be caused in the outside world would be too much. Maybe when the two others were asleep he'd- the thought was interrupted by a jab of pain across his cheek.

"Eh. Spy, I need some painkiller."

"Of course, my boy. What is bothering you?" He asked, popping the lid off the bottle. He poured two pills into his gloved palm and passed them to the boy. "Apologies, mon ami. We lack water, so you must swallow without it."

"He will be fine." Heavy added. Spy agreed with a nod.

Scout swallowed the small white pills. Ten minutes passed and the pain slowly vanished.

He exhaled and continued his thoughts.

Maybe, when his allies were asleep, he'd sneak back to the base and turn himself in. It would be best for avoiding the consequences of being a freak back in the outside world. He could live out his consequence for however long it took and teach himself to control his… _other_ side.

All the happenings of the previous few hours had made him forget that he was still wearing the camera collar. He thought back to when Sniper had first handed it to him and turned the thoughts away. His memories returned to the hour before his escape, with Engineer fastening the mechanism tightly around his neck, and then _testing_ the cruel device? Scout's stomach twisted upon remembering the immense pain he'd experienced back in the Blu base—his old home. Tears welled up in his eyes. It was no use holding them back now.

"Spy," he choked, "help me get this collar off." He began tearing at the leather with his claws, a considerable amount of rough scratches forming on his neck.

"Scout! Calm down!" Spy snapped, glaring at the boy's panicked and distressed face, "Zhis is what we must avoid if you want to be in control of yourself."

The man grabbed Scout's bandaged hands and gently pulled them from the collar.

The boy was trembling and his eyes gazed alarmingly at Spy.

"Shh, now, Scout," he eased, putting one arm around the boy and fumbling with the buckle on the collar, "You're alright. Nozhing will hurt you."

There was a small click and the collar fell into Spy's hand. Scout was panting with anxiety. He was scared of what would happen when he would turn himself in. He was scared of leaving Heavy and Spy behind after they'd been so willing to aid him in his escape. He was just plain scared. Hungry, weak and scared.

"Look! Heavy find good spot!"

The small outcrop Heavy was pointing to looked suitable enough to spend the night.

The sun was barely dipping below the horizon and it began to bathe the world in a shroud of darkness. Scout sat next to Spy under the rock formation, and on his other side sat Heavy. He began to finally feel safe, protected in the vicinity of his two allies. The sun sank away completely and Scout sat, watching as the other men began doze off.

If he was going to do this, it'd have to be now.

He stood up silently, snatching a bottle of painkillers. He took one last sad look at his sleeping friends, turned, and walked back towards the base. He'd rather suffer a short while now than suffer the rest of his life in the outside world.

The moon glowered at the boy who trudged across its desert's floor. His flesh crawled and his muscles convulsed in the oncoming cold.

Scout could sense that the fur on his tail was puffed up in an effort to stay warm; his ears burned in the chill and his fangs chattered in the cool of the wind. His sweaty palm gripped even more tightly on the painkiller bottle.

Scout quickly flicked his head up; what was that? A skittering noise made him freeze in place.

More skittering came from his right; he slowly turned his head in an effort to stay quiet, and listened.

The moonlight bounced off of a small pale shape that habitually twitched its body. Scout silently leaned closer for a better look.

A prairie dog.

A low grumble churned in his chest, quietly escaping his bared teeth. He gulped, trying to push back his involuntary instincts.

It didn't work.

Scout dropped to the ground, setting the painkillers on the dirt in the moonlight.

Crawling forwards, Scout paused whenever the small creature, nearly completely hidden by a darkly-colored rock, looked in his direction.

Scout approached the rodent carefully and as soon as he was in range of killing distance, a snarl yanked itself through his clenched teeth, frightening the little creature and making it flinch.

Not about to miss his chance, Scout lunged forward, piercing the animal in several places with his claws before breaking its neck with a precise bite.

Scout sat next to the rock in silence, staring at the tiny rodent in his hands. Rather than crying, however, he just gave up. It was no use. He was just as much an animal as the corpse in his hands.

Scout's stomach let out a ripping snarl and before he knew what was happening, he had already sliced part of the prairie dog and was biting into it.

Upon finishing his quick and vigorous meal, Scout stared at the remains he had set aside.

How long had he been out here? Did he really just eat that thing? What the actual shit was in the chemicals in Medic's lab?

Scout leaned back, resting his hands on his stomach and his head on the stone, the tip of his foot nearly touching the bottle of painkillers.

He wasn't so cold now, he realized. The reason for the warmth was beyond him.

He began to relax for the first time in nearly a week. He closed his eyes and sighed, preparing himself for the world of sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Scout woke up with a gasp, his hands flinging to his sides as he jolted upwards.

The sun had yet to rise, but the faded orange rose of sunrise was drifting above the horizon.

In front of him stood Heavy and Spy.

"Don't sink I never heard you leave," Spy smirked. "I knew you were going to go wander off somewhere at SOME point." He clicked his tongue, pulling smugly at his tie. "I am a master of stealth, you know."

Scout gazed at Spy, in a daze with hardly a memory of last night. As it sank back into his mind, his mouth went dry in the fear that his comrades would recognize his beastly habits.

Scout glanced at Heavy, who stood there with his mouth clamped shut, concern crossing over his brow.

"Euh, yes, mon ami," Spy chuckled nervously, sticking his thumb between his teeth. "We 'ave noticed all of your... Wild habits." Scout immediately assumed that Spy was talking about the rodent carcass by his side. "But we are not entirely sure that YOU 'ave noticed all of zem."

The boy looked down to swiftly catch a glance of his finished dinner- and that's when he noticed his arm.

Thick brown hair, the same color as his tail's and his head's, was covering his right forearm. He checked his left arm and sure enough, there was more.

Scout anxiously looked up at Spy, his eyes pleading that there wasn't more.

Spy grinned awkwardly and tapped his own cheek.

Scout lifted a hand and felt his own cheek- and his eyes widened in shock when he felt it.

Moving his hand all across his jawline and cheeks, he felt thick stubble, where he had previously been unable to grow facial hair at all.

"What the-"

Scout stopped mid-sentence in a moment of utter shock. Heavy jerked back his head and Spy's eyebrows shot upwards faster than lightning.

Scout panicked as realization flooded over him. His voice no longer sounded like his own; now it was a scratchy, low voice, almost like a growl.

Lovely.

Scout lifted his now furry hand up to his ears, where Spy and Heavy had been staring. There, he felt, was a long, fuzzy and pointed ear. Shit. How much worse could this get?

The moon sat nearly below the horizon now, and the sun was hardly beginning to show itself. The moon was full and still looked quite bright. The moon was full. It was full!

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS, MAN!?" Scout shot up, grabbed Spy's shoulders and began to shake him lightly back and forth. Heavy backed up cautiously and stood, eyes fixed on Scout.

"What does what mean, exactly?" Spy asked slowly.

"THIS MEANS IT AIN'T PERMANENT!" Scout cheered.

"What do you mean by zhis?"

"You know! Havent you ever read those urban legends 'n' shit with the werewolves that change on the full moon? It only lasts a few days, I become a furry freak and then bam! Back to normal."

"How can you be sure of zhis, boy?"

Scout paused.

"Well, I'm not sure, honestly. Wait- Spy, how long has it been a full moon?"

"Uh... About, let us say, three days now? And zhat it when you underwent zhis change, correct?"

"Yeah! Maybe Medic knew somthin' about this. Maybe he did it on purpose, he just didn't mean for the shit to get all over me! Probably just an experiment gone wrong, right? Or- or just a... Big, huge, coincidence..." He trailed off.

Spy sighed and brushed Scout's hands off his shoulders.

Disappointment clouded Scout's face and Spy tightened his lips, sympathetic.

"Well, you are certainly manlier now," Spy shrugged, trying to make a joke and lift Scout's spirits. "If... You count fur as a symbol of manliness." His leather-clad hand flicked a finger and one of Scout's ears, which reflexively swiveled back post-contact.

Heavy clearly felt bad for the boy and joined in. "I hope you like your meal," he said, pointing at the dead prairie dog's leftovers. "Probably better than Russian meatball."

Scout smirked, his fangs slipping through his lips. "Nothing beats your cooking when it comes to Russian meatballs, Heavy."

Heavy smiled sadly, brokenhearted over the boy's awful state.

Scout awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the sound of his own voice. Whenever he spoke he felt like gravel was churning in his chest in order to make the noise. As he was smiling and his claws lightly ran over the back of his head, an accidental growl slipped from his throat- but not an angry growl, just something more like a purr.

"Shit," Scout breathed to himself, his face flushing tomato red in embarrassment. Couldn't he at least control a FEW of his bodily functions? Besides peeing or something.

"Oh, don't worry, mon ami. Eet is fine. You ARE this man's best friend, after all. Now- shall we search for somesing to eat, hmm?"

Scout nodded, as did Heavy. Both of them were eager to chow down, and for Scout, to chow down on something other than painkillers.

Spy smiled and turned around, pivoting on his heels, and strutted in the other direction, Scout and Heavy following close behind.

Maybe half an hour passed when the three of them closed in upon a small cave in the face of a surprisingly large rock formation.

Scout looked in and his heart beat faster, his ears pricking up and his tail twitching eagerly. There was something to eat in there, he knew. He just didn't know if there was anything in there that Heavy or Spy would want to eat.

Scout jumped as he felt the light tap of Spy's hand on his back. "Go on, Scout," Spy encouraged. "Do your job. Scout around for ze both of us."

Scout nodded with a meek smile, rubbing his arm before pulling back his hand upon feeling the fur covering his skin. "Okay." His stomach sank when the sound of his own voice fell to his ears.


	12. Chapter 12

Scout began to sniff quickly around the rocky cave as Spy and Heavy watched quizzically. The cave was fairly small, big enough for maybe a coyote or two.

Spy or Heavy could never fit in there, but maybe he could. A new scent gathered in his nose and he followed it, assuming it was rabbit. Surprised by his new nasal powers, he saw sitting at the back of the cave sat two plump, brown creatures with long ears. Just as he'd thought. Rabbits. He inched further towards the two animals, huddled together in fear. Just as one tried to escape past him, he grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. The person in him began to show through. He stared at the struggling rabbit in his hands. Just when he needed it, his animal side disappeared and it left him arguing with himself over whether or not to kill the creature. He grabbed its neck in his hands and pressed his eyes shut. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Why now? His ravenous side had appeared at all the wrong times. Now that it was the right time, it was nowhere to be found. He dropped the rabbit and let it sprint out of the cave. The other had already left a few moments earlier, while its comrade was trapped in Scout's grip. He crawled from the cave and got up, walking over to his friends. He hung his head disappointedly as he approached the two.

"I couldn't do it, man," he told Spy in his still-raspy voice. "I dunno what happened. One minute I was killing prairie dogs and the next I-" Spy interrupted him.

"Scout! Do you know what zhis could mean?! Maybe you are right! Maybe it is only temporary!" Spy stopped and stared in surprise. "Scout!" A huge grin crossed his face, "Your ears!"

It hadn't even been that long since they'd popped out of his head and now they were almost gone. His eyes quickly darted to his arms. When could this all have possibly occurred? He'd barely even noticed. He couldn't have been happier though. The fur was almost all gone.

"What the- when did this..." He trailed off and his eyes widened suddenly, "My voice!" Happiness overcame him and he wrapped his arms joyfully around Spy.

"This means we can go home, right? Back to the base?" Scout backed up and felt Heavy's hand on his back. "Right, Spy?" He repeated.

"Well, Monsieur, unfortunately you still possess zhose horribly sharp claws and the leetle poofy tail." Scout's smile instantly faded and he stared back at his hands.

"Oh," he whispered.

Spy readjusted the collar of his coat, getting warm from the rising desert temperature. "Well, you are much better zhan last night, mon ami," he concurred, "But, ah... We still need somesing to eat."

Scout's eyes widened and his posture straightened with a snap. Oh yeah! How could he have let the rabbit go? Was he even thinking of his friends anymore?

Scout growled at himself and stared at the ground.

Spy chuckled and pointed at Heavy. "Sankfully, 'eavy noticed zese sings while you were inside ze cave."

Scout turned around to view Heavy's hands. In them was a small amount of round, green fruits.

"What'eh those? Figs?"

"Probably," Spy shrugged. "'eavy walked around zis rock figure and found a few desert trees. I sink it is best to go and find shade in zem, non?"

Scout nodded and the three of them took a five-minute, sluggish walk around the stone sculpture. Incredibly close to the edge of the stone, three fig trees stood with their roots hardly grasping the dirt.

The three men shuffled slowly under the shade of the trees and plopped down under the branches, slouching back against the dark red rock. Heavy kicked a tree and five or six figs fell out, bouncing on the ground and rolling in different directions. The large man passed around the figs in his hands and leaned forward to grab the others.

Scout broke open the fig and began to bite down on what was inside. His fangs were still there, he noted. And by the way the pulp felt whenever it dripped out of his mouth, at least a small amount of stubble still remained. That part didn't bother Scout as much, but... Why had his tail and fangs and nasty claws stayed when the fur and voice and ears were gone? And why had this apparent facial hair faded, but not left entirely? There was nothing natural about it.

Nothing at all.

"Ay, Spy," he said through a mouthful of desert fruit. "Wha'was in those chemicals?"

Spy sighed, picking up another fruit and peeling its skin away. "Je ne sais pas, mon garçon. But eef you must know, ze chemicals you poured all over yourself were on Medic's experiment table."

Scout froze, a pink chunk of pulp falling out of his mouth. "What?"

"Oui, Monsieur," Spy nodded, eyes on the fig he was carefully peeling. "Zis is why all of your attributes are like ze dog's. 'e was creating, ehh, some kind of animal-based protein or somesing like zat. Don't ask me, I am useless wis zese words in English."

Scout hardly moved, but he felt as though his heart was pounding twelve times harder. So there WAS something similar in all of his transformatives! Could it be cured? The cure for one trait could cure him of all of his traits! All he needed was a doctor with a deep knowledge of genetics.

...But then they'd experiment on him. Take his DNA and implant it into other people, maybe. He couldn't let anything like that happen.

Scout sighed and reached towards the ground, grabbing more figs in his hands and snacking on the insides. The mercs sat in silence as they finished their less-than-satisfactory meal.

The sun was setting beyond the horizon, the sky was turning a deep blue and the temperature in the desert began dropping like usual. Spy, Scout and Heavy had continued travelling, towards the north, they decided, as they continued on the assumption that north meant civilization.

The three of them were now surrounded by two tall stone pillars, a tiny fire crackling amidst them.

Spy had taken sure that he grabbed some fig tree leaves and twigs in order to start a fire during the chilly night, which he did. He had used his lighter to easily start the feeble flames.

The moon was high in the sky at this point, casting a gentle glow on the tips of the pillars. Spy and Heavy were shivering like crazy next to the heat source, but Scout was actually beginning to feel a bit too warm. He rose to his feet and trudged a few away from the fire to cool off a little bit.

"Where are you going, Scout?" Spy called out.

"Just getting some-"

Scout stopped mid-sentence. He rubbed his jawline and glanced at his arms again.

He attempted to move his ears, and to his disappointment rather than surprise, they more than complied.

It was back. All of it. Voice, fur, ears, everything. Scout stared up at the huge, round moon and sighed with relief. "Well. At least it's still the full moon."

And uneasy cough sounded from behind him, and he spun around to look at his friends. Spy had an uneasy look on his face, and Heavy uncomfortably fidgeted with his knee.


	13. Chapter 13

"Scout, my boy," Spy began cautiously. "Look at ze moon."

Scout turned and gazed back up at the lunar rock. "Yeah?"

Spy cleared his throat and said, "Eet is not a full moon."

Scout stared at the light source for longer. He saw the largeness, the whiteness, the circular edge- …oh.

Right in the bottom edge of the moon, a slick black crescent had begun to creep forward. The moon was waning.

"Wha- what the-" Scout snarled in anger and was about to let out a stream of vulgar language when Spy interrupted him.

"You keep getting hot, Scout. Maybe it was ze temperature? Maybe ze moon was just a coincidence, and ze chemicals were a solution of keeping warm in ze night."

Before Scout could answer, Heavy cleared his throat and began talking. "Medic show me his lab," he started. "Medic tell me he works on medicine for outside."

He pointed to the furry Scout and then waved his hand around at the air. "You get medicine. You not cold when air is freezing."

Scout gulped, understanding the explanation but still too mad to fully accept it. A snarl ripped out of his chest, scaring Heavy and Spy, and the boy cried out in self-hatred, turning behind the pillar and dashing out into the open to clutch his head in his hands and drop down into the dirt as his breaths became heavy while he tried regain control of himself.

Spy glanced at Heavy, and the large Russian gave him a nod. The assassin rose to his feet, walking out into the flat sandy space and crouching down next to Scout. The young man's ears were flat as paper and he turned away, tears beginning to run down his face.

"Scout," Spy breathed, trying to stay calm and quiet so as not to disturb the Bostonian. "Come on. We should talk about zhis." Scout complied distastefully, allowing Spy to lift him up by the arm and slowly walk him back towards the campfire.

"Now," Spy began as all three of them were seated around the flames, Scout still in a terrible mood. "What do you sink about all of zhis? Any soughts at all?"

"Well, when I knocked over Medic's table, I remembah seein' all these othah bottles and some sheets of paper as well. I don't remember what was on 'em but I think it coulda been the antidote." Scout's voice was still horribly raspy and he hated it. "Maybe we… Maybe we could go back there an' get 'em. The papers."

"Scout," Heavy addressed the boy, "That is very risky plan. What will small furry boy do about Demoman and Engineer?"

"Well, uh… Well maybe we could sneak in at night, right? Grab the papers and the chemicals an' take 'em. We'd mix 'em all up like the recipe says and I'll drink it or whatever," he explained with a pissed-off shrug. "Couldn't make things any worse, could it?"

"Well, monsieur, if anyone was to do it, it would have to be me. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"Will you?" Scout asked, giving Spy his biggest puppy eyes, which looked a little too real considering the amount of fur that covered his body. Spy frowned.

"Well, monsieur... Let me think."

After a few pondering moments, Spy grinned a great beaming smile and beckoned the boy over, curling his fingers. Scout shuffled awkwardly towards the Frenchman, unsure of what to do.

"Lean closer to moi," Spy ordered. A bit discomforted, Scout obeyed.

Spy plucked a hair from Scout's ear, clenching it tightly between his fingers.

"Oww!" Scout yowled, grabbing his ear and rubbing it, irritated. "What are you-"

Spy jerked his eyebrows twice, slid his cigarette case out of his coat, and inserted the hair into the tobacco of a cigarette with a Hermes' foot marking on it.

"Take off your shirt," Spy added, waving his hand at Scout while he pulled out the Hermes cigarette and rummaged in his pocket for a lighter.

"Honestly, I don't even know with you anymore," Scout growled deeply, pulling his shirt over his head and flinging it at Spy.

The man ignored Scout's wry comment and ignited the cigarette, inhaling the smoke and releasing it into the night air with a relaxed breath.

The smoke whirled around Spy, completely enveloping him in the ashy air, and as it disappeared, an exact copy of wolf-like Scout was in his place- only wearing a scarlet shirt, rather than a blue one.

"Oi," the Red scout huffed. "What ze heck? Do your ears feel like zis all ze time?"

Heavy started choking and the shirtless Scout stood there, mouth agape.

Spy yanked off the red tee and put on Scout's dirty cyan one. He threw the red shirt at Scout, who caught it in his claws.

"Put zat one on," he grunted, blinking multiple times from the shock of having dog ears. "What ees-" his hand slid behind his back and he grunted in surprise.

"Oh, oui. Ze tail."

"What... What?" Scout mumbled, still confused. "So you're going in there as me?"

"But of course, mon ami," Spy smiled, adjusting Scout's shirt sleeves on his shoulders. "Now if you don't mind, have some American modesty and put zat red shirt on for now."

"Spy, are you insane!?" Scout questioned. "Demoman and Engineer want to KILL me. If you go in there like that they'll put a bullet straight through yer head!"

"Mon ami, I am going to try to convince zhem you are not going to hurt anyone anymore. I can control myzelf much better than you can, at the moment. I will show zhe two zhat you are safe to be around. To get you zhe medicine under zhis circumstance, I must sneak in and find zhe papers. I am only using your appearance to show zhem, if zhey even see me, zhat you are safe to be around and will not hurt zhem. Any consequences put on you will be put on me instead," Spy explained. "Zhat is assuming _if _zhey see me, zhen I will take zhe punishments. If I am _not_ captured, which is more likely, zhen I shall bring back zhe ingredients and turn you back to your normal self. Once you turn back, we will take you back to zhe base. I presume, of course, that Demoman and our hard-hatted friend will not be convinced, even with your dog parts gone. Zhey might want to watch you for hopefully only few days at most. I assure you, I will not let zhem put another awful collar on you, my boy. I apologize for not doing anyzhing the first two times zhey forced you into one." Spy's mouth hardened into a straight line, obviously mad. Mad at Demoman, mad at Engineer. Maybe even mad at himself. "I will also make sure zhey will not lock you in zhe cellar."

Scout stepped forward slowly, almost stumbling rather than walking. He dropped down onto his knees and lifted his chin over Spy's shoulder, giving the mad a big hug. "You're like a dad t'me, Spy. Thank you."

Spy swallowed hard. "Vous voulez dire le monde à moi, mon fils."

It was almost morning at that point. The men had at least three hours though before the sun rose fully. Spy turned his head quickly to face the BLU base, basically invisible from that distance.

"I must go, mon garçon." Spy bid the two men farewell and began to sprint in the westward direction of their previous home. Scout sat down next to Heavy silently, a worried look on his face.

"Is small furry man okay?" Heavy asked. The boy paused before replying.

"I'm just worried for Spy. I don't wan' 'im ta get killed."

"Team will not kill Spy, even if he look like fuzzy dog." Heavy tried to reassure Scout, placing his large hand on the fighter's small shoulder.

"Well, that's not all, either," Scout continued, "When Spy was talkin' about the collar again I felt funny. I guess everyone would though, if their friend nearly chokes them- twice- and zaps 'em," Scout rubbed the scratches and small burns on his neck gently. "I just, well, I... I just felt like Demo and Engie deserved to die after what they did to me. They put a shock collar on me, Heavy!" His voice was becoming louder with each word. "That's just wrong! I'm a friggin kid compared t'them! I- I don't want them to die." Scout lowered his head with a depressed sigh. "I just feel like they deserve it. I mean, it's just… They're like my family, ya' know?" Heavy watched Scout yell with a concerned expression.

"It is only true that you would feel zis way to them." Heavy spoke.

"Yeah. I guess," Scout mumbled, "I just don't want to feel that way in the first place, ya' know?

"Heavy understand feelings."

"You do?" Scout raised up his head with interested eyes.

"I do. But zat is story for other time, da? Now you sleep. Small boy looks tired."

Scout yawned on cue.

"Heh. I guess yer right." He said, leaning forward onto his hands and knees.

Scout crawled over to a spot on the opposite side of the fire from where Heavy sat and curled up. Instantly, his eyes closed and he drifted into sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Spy had reached the BLU base finally after the agonizingly long run. He deactivated the alarm with a miniature sapper and snuck silently into the dark hall, heading the direction of Medic's lab. He knew Medic kept more than one bottle of each substance in a small cabinet above his desk, so it was no big deal that Scout had smashed the others.

He needed test tubes, the chemicals and a syringe. Oh! Right. The recipe too.

He entered the empty room. No one had bothered to clean up the broken glass and spilled chemicals. The BLUs had disposed of the two bodies, however. Spy tip-toed over to the cabinet and opened it with a light creak. The assassin then crept to where Scout had described where he'd seen Medic's notes.

There, by the tipped cart, sat two sheets of paper, partially soaked in chemicals. Spy sighed in relief when he saw that Medic's handwriting was, for the most part, still legible. He read the list and matched the chemicals, silently packing them into a small briefcase that'd been sitting by the examination table. Lastly, he grabbed a small set of test tubes, some syringes and a beaker. Luckily, he'd made it out unnoticed, which was a miracle considering Demoman was easily woken—well, at least when he wasn't drunk.

Crawling on the floor past the bedroom doors was a difficulty. He heard Engineer snort mid-slumber and the doppelganger paused, terrified. Scout's tail had prickled up and it felt awful. He only had a short amount of time before his alarm-sapper would self-destruct and the alarm went off on its own.

After slithering along the ground like a sick tortoise, Spy finally managed to slip outside and deactivate his sapper with no trouble from the alarm. He sighed in relief when that had happened; he had expected the alarm to go off and for himself to be captured. It was a miracle that the possible catastrophe was successfully avoided. As soon as he was finished, he charged for the camp where Heavy and Scout rested. He, exhausted and dry-mouthed, made it back just as the sun began to rise.

"Scout! Heavy!" he called with a gasp, startling the sleeping boy with a jolt, "I have zhe ingredients!"

A large smile appeared on Scout's face. The boy's extra hair had begun to disappear— for now, at least. All that remained was the teeth, claws, and short, bushy tail. "What're ya' waitin' for? Make the stuff!"

Spy pulled out his cigarette case and shifted back into his own, more comfortable form. He then began measuring carefully and mixing the chemicals just as Medic's instructions directed, sitting on the dirty ground while the sun swiftly soared above the horizon line. Once he was finished following every direction he could read (he had made Scout help him with unfamiliar English words), the liquid was a light blue hue, and bubbled slightly.

"Inject fluid into arm or leg..." he muttered, reading the instructions.

"Wait," Scout interrupted, "Inject? Oh no, uh uh. No way, Spy. I ain't lettin' _you_ inject anything anything inta my arm."

"You were fine with it when we were at zhe base."

"That's cuz I was almost out cold! I hate needles, man." Scout bared his fangs.

"Now let's not do anything drastic, mon ami." Spy eased, stepping slowly and cautiously towards the boy. A small, low growl rose from Scout's throat. Spy glanced at Heavy, who suddenly appeared behind the boy, grabbing his hands and pinning them behind his back. Spy pricked the Scout's arm with the syringe, and the boy let out a scared yelp. Spy quickly pushed down on the pump and Scout stayed still with little complaint.

"See, mon garçon, zhat was not too bad," Spy chuckled, flicking the needle before slipping it into his pocket. When he looked up, Scout's face was pale and pupils miniscule. "Scout? Scout, are you okay?"

Heavy released the boy's arms in panic, sending Scout stumbling forward.

Scout's body felt numb and he collapsed to the rocky ground as his knees buckled. He let out a groan as his head began to throb.

"Scout? Scout! Answer me, boy! Are you all right?" Spy called, just as the boy fell into unconsciousness.


	15. Chapter 15

An obnoxious, tormenting ringing pummeled Scout's eardrums as he woke up to a bright white light.

"Seriously? This again? Where are we, in th' base?"

No answer. Scout blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain his vision. His stomach flip-flopped; he felt like he was floating.

As his vision cleared up and there was less of a blur, he looked around him.

Totally, completely white. There was nothing. He could tell it was a dream, though- a misty fog clouded the edges of his eyesight, and he maintained that sort of drifting sensation that one often gets during a dream.

"Nein, Herr Pup. You are not in ze base, but zis is not really a dream, ja? More of a message."

Scout's muscles jolted to life, his eyes widening tenfold. "Medic?"

A semitransparent blue figure wafted into view, complete with a lab coat, glasses, and the all-too-famous superman hair curl. "Mmm, ja. I am here."

Scout stared up at his friend in total awe. For some reason, he felt like he was lying on his belly; he couldn't even move his arms or legs for the time being, let alone see himself.

"Oh, sorry, Pup! I see I have made it difficult for you. In zese, eh, message things- I get to choose what happens, ja." Medic pulled up his glove and snapped his fingers, and Scout's muscles instantly relaxed as he regained control of them. Medic became more solid and tangible, as well.

"What're you doin' here? What- what's going on? What 'appened?" The boy felt too sluggish to rise to his feet.

Medic chuckled, reaching downward and scruffing the hair on Scout's head.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

Medic straightened his posture, pulling his hand away from Scout and biting the inside of his cheek, stifling a laugh.

"What? What's so funny?"

Medic took a deep breath through his nose and shook his head, sighing with a subtle grin. "Did Spy even consider ze warning labels on mein papers?"

Scout's heart pounded rapidly. "What warnings?"

Medic raised his eyebrows, a light in his eyes. "Get up, Scout," he said with a smirk.

Scout pushed himself to his feet- but not really. He only seemed to reach up to

Medic's knee-

"HOLY SHIT," Scout spat, leaping up a few inches before pounding back onto the ground. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME? Are these paws? Am I a dog? Don't even get me sta'ted on the irony in this whole thing-"

Medic motioned with his hand and a large square mirror appeared in front of Scout.

"You are a dog, actually," Medic mused, trying to hide his smile, "a Norweigan Buhund. Very cute, I think."

Scout stared at his reflection in almost complete disbelief- he wouldn't have believed it if these past few days hadn't been full of nearly just as crazy occurrences.

He stood only a foot and a half tall, with light tan fur similar to his hair color, fuzzy pointed ears and a small round puff of a tail. He noticed a somewhat bushy mane around his neck and his little sharp teeth poking out of his mouth.

"Seriously, dude," Scout said, eyes never leaving the mirror, "I honestly don't have a clue what's wrong with you."

Medic released his pent-up laughter, hooting and wiping tears from behind his glasses. "Ahh, Herr Pup Scout," he chuckled, catching his breath. "Good luck figuring zat out. You vill need it."

Scout slowly backed away from his reflection and turned to Medic, looking the man in the eye. "Please don't tell me I'm stuck like this."

"Nein, mein pup," Medic muttered gently. "Only for a little vhile. Maybe a day at ze most. I can't believe you- ahh. I must have written ze warnings in German. Shtupid scheiße." He smacked himself in the forehead.

Scout growled. "So, uh, why am I a complete dog now? Literally, I mean. Not figuratively. Don't even laugh at that. But like wouldn't I be bigger, or have some kinda... Human... Qualities or somethin'?"

Medic shrugged. "Vell, ze so-called 'antidote'- or, as I vill call it, ze 'reversal solution'- contains ze total biological solutions of each form of DNA."

Scout stared blankly.

Medic sighed. "Basically, ze extreme opposites- canine and human- both have

zeir sides of ze solution, and so, because you so boldly ingested ze entire thing, ze opposites vill svitch back and forze."

Scout sniffed and licked his nose. "So, uh, how long i'this gonna last?"

"Probably you vill be like zis for, mmm... Eizah tventy-four to forty-eight hours," Medic conceded.

Scout snorted and almost choked. "Will I be able to talk, at least!?"

Medic looked taken aback. "Nein! Of course not! Vat, you think zat pups can talk, now? Vat are you thinking?"

"Well I'm talkin' right now!"

"And I am DEAD!" Medic cried, throwing his arms in the air.

Scout grunted and plopped his rear end on the invisible floor. "So why'd you visit me now?"

"Vell," Medic said, calming down and adjusting his glasses, "Now seemed like ze most important time to, eh, educate you on vat is happening. Speaking of messages, zis one seems to be coming to an end."

Scout nodded. "A'right. But how're Spy an' 'eavy gonna know all this?"

"Zey vill know enough," Medic admitted, his palms facing upward. "Trust me on zis one."


End file.
